


What Kise Was Talking About

by Einzel



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, Metafiction, the real treasure is the rivalries we made along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einzel/pseuds/Einzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A character study based on meta I've written about Midorima and Kagami's rivalry, told through a string of sixteen drabbles.</p><p>You can check out the (in progress) meta on Tumblr, <a href="http://die-einzelganger.tumblr.com/tagged/knb%20meta">here.</a></p><p>As anyone can tell by my Ao3 works, I am terrible at composing shorter pieces. Each time I start writing something, it stretches in my hands like taffy, so I decided to practice concise story-telling by condensing the various stages of Midorima's metamorphosis into drabbles. All of them are exactly one hundred words each, and all in all, I'm really happy with them!</p><p>If you liked this fic, please give me kudos and leave a comment, if you can! This was my first time writing for this fandom, so I would love to hear from you! <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Kise Was Talking About

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charmingStrangeness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmingStrangeness/gifts).



> Dedicated to my good friend, who suggested I write this piece after I started wondering about meta and fic-writing. Thank you for caring about me and my ideas, it makes me really, really happy. <3

A dozen microphones hover inches from their faces. Aomine squirms in discomfort, until he’s hailed by… Inoue, was it? After two years, Shintarou barely recalls more than a handful of names, all connected to the others, not him.

Even blinded by flashlights, Akashi hands out perfect answers with enviable poise. Beside him, Shintarou calmly assures a reporter he’ll do his best.

Kuroko and some unknown student seem in raptures. Friends, perhaps? Opponents, now.

A moment later, Shintarou flinches as Kise elbows him in the side.

“Aren’t you excited, Midorimacchi?!” he cries, gesturing around them. Shintarou’s face stiffens.

Excited?

_What for…?_

* * *

Once again, no one is able to block him. Shintarou receives another pass ( _About time…_ ), winds up, then shoots like clockwork. Three points.

He catches Murasakibara yawning. As Inoue crumbles, Aomine’s drive fades into a half-hearted layup. Two points.

Shintarou glances down to his mark for a change.

He finds himself alone.

Well, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Very few stay on him for the entire forty minutes, and those who have still achieved nothing.

He pauses, so absorbed in thought Akashi passes to Kise instead.

Shintarou sighs. He cannot remember any of their faces, much less their names.

* * *

“Come onnn, Midorimacchi! Just five minutes?”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Can’t you see I’m practicing my shooting?”

“Just one possession, then! _Please?_ I only want a little thrill, that’s all..!”

“A little thrill?”

“Don’t you get excited when you go up against someone strong?”

There’s that word again. _Excited._

“Are you saying loss excites you?”

“Huh..?”

“Does loss excite you? I know you’ve never won against Aomine. Are you so addicted to defeat you’ve come to seek it?”

“Of course I want to win! If anything, you could say that defeat… inspires me.”

Shintarou grunts. As always, it makes zero sense.

* * *

He’s a stranger to the person behind Akashi’s eyes, but Shintarou cannot deny the validity of his parting words… except on one point.

The five of them are not rivals or enemies, but _opponents_. That would be the correct term, for the other two imply something more, something deeply personal. An obsession with the other, if you will, which, quite frankly, sounds ridiculous. Disenchantment and desolation are the hallmarks of a true prodigy. Just look at Aomine.

 _Kise must still be below our level, then,_ concludes Shintarou. Once Kise improves, he, too, will realize that rivalry is for the weak.

* * *

The Interhigh preliminaries have been uneventful so far. Opponents come and go, crushed under the iron heel of Shuutoku. In other news, grass is green, and Kuroko has found a new light: a reckless, ignorant buffoon that makes Aomine look like a lightbulb in comparison.

Yet Shintarou cannot ignore their challenge. _No_ , it’s their naiveté that chafes him.

There is no time. He forces himself into the starting line-up, ignoring the fact that the palm of his shooting hand has become a billboard for **Seirin Number 10, Kagami Taiga.**

The ink, he finds, fades sooner than his thoughts of Kagami.

* * *

Once cornered, Shintarou lets headstrong, meddlesome Takao have his way. He watches the entire footage of Seiho, then openly acknowledges their impeccable defense, and not just to appease his teammate.

Back then, he declined to change marks with Kise. Tsugawa Tomoki has only become more irksome since middle school, and Shintarou does not wish to entertain an annoying sadist.

“Seirin won’t be able to overcome this wall. Sorry, but we’re gonna have to play these guys in the finals. Keep that in mind,” warns Takao.

“ _I know._ ”

And yet, somehow, teaching Kuroko and Kagami a _real_ lesson intrigues him more.

* * *

With two games in one day, Shuutoku decides to put its first-year regulars in reserve. They can afford to, unlike Seirin, who have no choice but to let Kuroko become their saving grace.

That does not surprise Shintarou in the slightest, but four fouls by their rambunctious ace? How unsightly. More than disappointing, it’s pathetic.

“Well, it’s all good. They made it.” Shintarou can almost feel Takao’s smirk.

“I can see that,” he replies as his gaze sweeps across the court.

Kagami and Kuroko’s eyes meet his. The former glares brimstone and fire in his direction.

Despite himself, Shintarou smiles.

* * *

_Kuroko, and his new light, Kagami._ Versatile passes, combined with aggressive, subpar play.

But is that really all Kagami can do? Has Kuroko’s judgment failed him completely? Shintarou can no longer endure the uncertainty. He has to gauge Kagami’s true potential himself.

_I did not miss a day of shooting._

_I did not slack off at practice._

_My left hand nail care is as it always is._

_Today’s horoscope for Cancer is number one._

_I even brought today’s lucky item, a raccoon Shigaraki._

_I tied the laces on my right shoe first._

_I have done everything._

_Don’t disappoint me, Kagami._

* * *

He owes Kuroko a demonstration of how three points are worth more than two, anyway. The time has come at last, yet after nine points scored in a row, Kagami’s spirit continues to soar in growing defiance.

Cancer is number one. Defeat, impossible. Shintarou _knows_ that.

Yet Kagami’s finger scrapes the ball. He then _blocks_ Shintarou. _Passes him_ with a drive. Dunks over _Ootsubo-san_. Stops _Miyaji-san_. _Shoots over Kimura-san_.

He soon runs out of stamina. Shintarou expected as much.

But Kagami still jumps, then blows over him… with a _dunk?!_

_Impossible… It should be impossible…!_

_Who the hell is he...?!_

* * *

The polished floorboards scorch Shintarou’s feet. His stomach clenches as eyes gouge into him on all sides, until humiliation drips from his pores like blood from wounded prey.

The world blurs before his eyes. He escapes the court to find himself in the rain, tears streaming down his face.

_So this is defeat… What a horrible end…_

**_No._ ** _It cannot end here!_

His phone rings. It’s probably Takao, to inform him Miyaji-san has acquired a pineapple large enough to bludgeon Shintarou to death.

Unfortunately, it’s Momoi and Aomine instead. The latter mocks him.

Shintarou hopes Kagami destroys him for that.

* * *

Instead, Kagami is benched with an injury while Touou doubles Seirin’s score. Truly a regrettable outcome. As they leave, Aomine and Kuroko pass each other like strangers. It’s like their third year at Teiko all over again.

The implications leave Kise confused, so Shintarou directs his attention to Kuroko, the true victim of the match. He’s determined to conceal his own loss for the present. If Shintarou’s pride has been wounded, Kagami’s suffered a fatal blow, yet even in defeat, and more than ever, he’s engulfed by rage, thirsting for revenge.

 _Good_. Shintarou would not have it any other way.

* * *

At first, summer training camp sounds like refuge to Shintarou. Instead, it turns out to be a living hell. Their regimen is hard enough, to the point where they’ve thrown up a dozen times, in front of Seirin, no less. But to add insult to injury, Kuroko’s efforts to improve seem completely misguided, while Seirin’s coach dangles Kagami in front of Shuutoku’s nose, always out of Shintarou’s reach.

He only runs into Kagami towards the end of camp, to find him clawing at a threshold he’s too dense to cross.

 _…Fine_. It’s not like Shintarou has anything better to do…

* * *

On Seirin’s last day, Shintarou gets up at dawn to practice his shooting. Now that Kagami’s potential has awakened, he cannot afford to slacken his pace.

To his surprise, Kuroko soon sneaks over to thank him. Shintarou scoffs when he catches his meaning.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve done nothing to deserve your gratitude. Even a flea can jump. I only taught him a lesson because he’s so stupid.”

“I see,” smiles Kuroko. Shintarou glares.

“The next time we see each other will be at the Winter Cup preliminaries.”

His voice crackles as he adds, “Don’t lose until I beat you.”

* * *

For a Winter Cup contender, Suginami takes Shintarou’s presence awfully lightly. Instead of guarding him like their lives depended on it, they flock uselessly to the inside, as if hoping Shintarou might miss if they waited long enough.

They have no spirit or backbone. In turn, Shintarou has no patience for them. He ends up tripling Suginami’s score, but it’s just not enough. Not anymore.

At one point, he catches Takao staring at him, looking strangely unnerved, even distressed.

It irritates him beyond reason. If Takao feels rattled, then Shintarou is positively incensed, his nerves tugged raw and smoldering nonstop.

* * *

Suginami has failed him badly enough, but Kirisaki Daiichi now douses the flames with more gasoline. Five trembling benchwarmers, thrown to the wolves while the entire first string lounges comfortably on the spectator’s balcony, their eyes on Seirin and Senshinkan. Shintarou seethes when he notices Hanamiya Makoto talking in the middle. In comparison, remaining unguarded for most of the game is the lesser offense.

Shintarou’s blood boils by the time he shoots the last buzzer beater. For disrespecting Shuutoku, he has doubled Kirisaki Daiichi’s score.

He puts on his jacket before anyone else. The next game cannot begin soon enough.

* * *

_I cannot wait._

_I want to play against a real opponent. I want to play against Seirin._

_They are all honest, hard-working players. I can count on them to do their best._

_That is what I want._

_But more than anything, I want to beat Kagami. I want him to give this game everything he has, then beat him._

_And then… I want to play with him again._

The next moment, Shintarou freezes, eyes wide. _So this is what Kise was talking about._

_This… is Rivalry._

Shintarou’s fists tremble in his lap, defeated, parched and aching… and never more alive.


End file.
